


remember us this way

by paniqatd



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Bittersweet Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Just Got Married Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Love Confessions, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Steve Rogers, Pining, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Slow-dancing, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is happy.... as he should be!, Unrequited Love, rated mature for that One Scene, the tags are scattered but that's basically it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paniqatd/pseuds/paniqatd
Summary: “You are cordially invited to the wedding of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.”Lightning flashes, and in the corner of his eye the invitation flashes blue in his hand, like the arc reactor Tony shoved in his hand a few months ago.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Steve Rogers, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark - Relationship, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Clint Barton, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	remember us this way

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this is rated for that one scene where there is implied masturbation, but other than that this is pretty much just 9k words of angst and pining.
> 
> (note: this is also unedited, so if there are errors please forgive me. Kudos and comments are appreciated!)

Steve watches the rain fall unto the windows that stretches to the floor, and it illuminates shadows of drops on the floor. He blinks, watches a drop run down and hit another drop, and another, as it creates a weird game of connect the dots until it reaches bottom of the panel. Thunder rolls distantly, and Steve’s blue eyes look dim as they flicker momentarily in the general direction of where the sound may be coming from.

_ I got nothing for you, Cap! _

Something crumbles in his hand. He looks down at the envelope, the flap now wrinkled by this thumb. Right, Sam gave it to him yesterday. The paper’s scented, the sweet and somehow mocking smell of roses reaching his enhanced sense of smell, and Steve finally– finally– opens the envelope, letting it flutter to the ground as he opens the card.

The card’s firm, a strong opposition to his trembling fingers, as he reads the words printed in bold cursive, as if taunting him to go against something that is clearly beyond him.

**You are cordially invited to the wedding of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts.**

Lightning strikes, lighting up the room and the card with a harsh brightness that makes him flinch.

_ Zero, zip, nada. no trust - liar. _

It felt like he was being challenged. 

_ Are you going to be brave enough to show yourself, Rogers?  _ A voice whispers in his mind, its tone a barely hidden laugh at his expense.  _ Are you strong enough to face the judgement and hostility that may come your way? _ He turns the card over, as if thinking through all these when he already has been doing so ever since Tony came back from space, thin and vulnerable and weak from deprivation.

_ Are you ready to accept the confirmation for what it is? That you never stood a chance next to the only person good enough to actually piece him together instead of break him like you did? _

He isn’t, probably won’t be in time for the wedding, but Steve knows how to adapt. He did it before, he could do it again, he’s sure. If this was a sign for reconciliation– maybe forgiveness, or a chance to be comrades again, Steve’s not really sure what it’s supposed to be a sign of– then he’ll take it, because he’ll damn well make sure he doesn’t let Tony down.

This is different.

And oranges and apples are both still fruits, he snaps at the voice. Steve wills himself to drag his eyes away from those bold letters and up again at the somber atmosphere, and listens resolutely to the pat-pat of the rain as it continues pouring outside.

Lightning flashes, and in the corner of his eye the invitation flashes blue in his hand, like the arc reactor Tony shoved in his hand a few months ago.

_ Liar _ .

He never did know what was good for him.

Beyond the windows, outside of the compound, the grey sky continues to morbidly depict his inner turmoil as it pours and pours for hours.

Steve wakes up to a white ceiling.

He breathes, deep and slow, and tries to remember the dream that got his heart beating so damn loudly against his ribcage. He considers going back to sleep, closing his eyes in an attempt to do so, but his body is now recognizing the sticky sweat where his back is pressed on the mattress, the uncomfortable heat of the bunched up blanket tangled around his left thigh and the contrast it creates to the chill of the room, so he sighs and untangles himself before stretching his joints. He shuffles to the bathroom, brushes his teeth, takes a quick shower so fast he steps out almost as soon as he stepped in. There was something about the echoes that resonate from the onslaught of water that makes Steve uncomfortable in a sense that he was exposed, and a minute too long in there felt like it would be enough to drown him in the ruthless thoughts and scenarios he created after reading the invite.

(Sometimes though, when he’s feeling brave, he’d close his eyes and stand under the unforgiving water that falls on his head down his body, and it would feel like he was back when the tower used to be the team’s. He’d squint, and through the dark blonde of his hair and the water dripping from it he could almost fool himself into thinking the tiles in front of him was that of the communal showers in the Avengers tower, that were only really used when they came in contact with radiation. 

There’d be a quick second of comfort, but then he’d take in how the pipes leading to the shower head looked several kinds of wrong and the drain’s a few inches off from where it should be, and when he turns his head a little he wouldn’t see a glass divider transparent enough to tease the tempting curve of Tony’s spine as he rinses his hair, and how the water follows it down until Steve has to look away because  _ it is inappropriate to look at a teammate like that, Rogers, you pervert. _

Then he’s uncomfortable, in a way where his skin tingles and his ears are tinged pink at the tips as well as his cheeks, and at that point he either bolts out of the shower in a haste to stop the sinful thoughts while he almost rips the rod holding his towel off the wall when he tugs too hard on it, or he closes his eyes and slowly reaches down with his right hand, then watches white fluid go down the drains guiltily before slinking out of the bathroom.)

Steve puts on a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, and when his stomach grumbles he slings the towel around his head and wipes his hair dry as he makes his way to the kitchen. There’s usually only him in the compound, so Steve jumps a little when he hears the toaster beep and spots Natasha getting his bread out of the toaster.

“Morning, sunshine,” Natasha drawls and Steve rolls his eyes. “Morning, honey,” he shoots back with as much sarcasm he could insert in a single word, fond as ever, smirking at Natasha a little before focusing his attention on the contents of fridge. Natasha rolls her eyes before holding her mug of coffee and setting it down on the counter. Steve feels Natasha’s observant stare as he cracks an egg on the pan as he cooks it, and tries to lose the tension in his shoulders as he sprinkles salt and waits. Natasha doesn’t talk, even though he feels her taking his existence apart and studying it like a puzzle, and Steve doesn’t really want to know where the impending conversation will end, so they stand there in silence until the egg is cooked. 

Steve grabs a piece of toast, places it on the plate with the egg, and begins eating as soon as he sits down on the stool near the counter when Natasha finally comes out with it.

“It’s fine if you can’t go to the wedding, you know.”

Steve is tense before he knows it, his head down so only his plate is in his vision, and continues eating. 

“I know,” he says, pointedly eating his food, and he cringes at how fast he says it. It’s pointless to deny, because this is Natasha he’s talking to, and denying it is as good as stripping down and pretending he’s fully clothed even when his genitals are out. He winces at the vulgar imagery and, as if sensing how he’s itching for something to drink, Natasha pushes another mug of coffee over to him and he takes it gratefully, uttering a small thanks before taking a sip. The room is filled with the awkward pause that was caused by Steve’s sudden reply, but it only lasts for a few seconds before Natasha seems to regain her poise. 

At least that’s what Steve thinks happened, since he wasn’t even looking at her in the first place.

Natasha sighs, because of course Natasha knows what’s going on in his head, and sits down next to him without disturbing the silence of the room. Steve knows her enough to know she’s at least gonna give one last and undeniably effective attempt to make him understand what she’s trying to say, but it doesn’t stop his brain from coming up with half-hearted statistics of how fast he could eat without choking so that he can at least try to escape.

(He used to be thankful that Natasha just seems to read him well, so he doesn’t have to say anything verbally for her to get even a fraction of it, but right now he wishes she truly didn’t know him that good so he could actually say he’s fine without feeling like an absolute clown.)

(Objectively, to be honest, he still is really, but it’s far away from him at the moment.)

“And I know you feel guilty that you weren’t there for Tony when he was starving in space– I mean God, we all are– but this, Steve? This isn’t supposed to be an obligation, or a duty,” Natasha says with finality, and Steve finally stops contemplating how pathetic he would look if he not-so-accidentally hits his head on the corner of the counter.

“I’m not saying it is, Nat,” Steve mutters, feeling a little bit like a kid being reprimanded by his mother, and hopes that she hears everything he couldn’t say.

Because Steve knows, objectively, that it’s fine if he won’t go. He could bring up a million excuses, say he still has things to come to terms with and maybe get Sam to give Tony a small gift on his behalf (he could just give a drawing, like before, but it would be a harsh reminder of what used to be and might do more harm than good), but it feels too much like letting Tony down again, another decision that continues to break his promise that he’ll always be there when Tony needed him and  _ dammit _ , now it’s echoing again in his head and  _ he’s a coward, a goddamn coward– _

Steve takes a bite of his toast.

Natasha drinks her coffee and places her hand on his shoulder. As usual, he knows he could trust her to understand.

“You should try forgiving yourself. The martyr act is getting old,” Natasha states, casual as ever, but he still hears the underlying message that they don’t address. Hears how Tony already forgave him, that no one is blaming him anymore, and that he’s the only one still beating himself up for it. He swallows around a mouthful, gives her a smile so that she knows he understood, and she leaves.

He understood, yes, but living it was a different matter all together.

Steve ruins 4 punching bags by the time the others get out of bed.

Natasha begins convincing Steve out into the city for his measurements, resorting to dragging him because of the mile wide streak of stubborn Steve will always have through the years. She keeps glaring at him, though not as fierce as when she’s truly angry, when he uses his superhuman strength against her, and doesn’t give up on dragging him even though he argues that he already has a suit. “What’s the point of buying a suit if you’re just going to wear it once?” Steve tries, and Natasha stops in the midst of dragging him and gives him a deadpan look that has him letting out a frustrated groan, and when she pulls this time he willingly goes. They go down to the garage, because of course she already knew how this was going to go, and he’s more than a little bit shocked to see Rhodey standing there with his hands in his pockets.

To be fair, Steve doesn’t know what he really expected to see, but it definitely wasn’t Rhodey. Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with himself once Natasha lets him go, and he finds himself cursing his physique for its inability to make Steve look smaller and hidden in the room. “Rhodey,” Natasha greets him with politeness, and the man gives her a small smile before nodding towards Steve.

“So you really got him to come out, Romanoff. Respect,” Rhodey says, and he ignores the implications of whatever that was, but he’s thankful for the opening so he doesn’t have to worry about being the first to approach the other. “You were in on this too?” Steve says in mild surprise, and Rhodey shrugs. “Well somebody has to dress you up well.” There was no mention of the wedding, and Steve thinks he should probably feel uncomfortable that there was the possibility of Natasha and him discussing Steve’s pining behind his back, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it when Natasha starts pushing him towards a black car. Rhodey follows, hands still in his pocket, and once they’re situated in the car he starts the engine and they smoothly make their way to whatever expensive shop they’re taking him to.

With Rhodey and Natasha in the front making small talk, Steve is left in the backseat with his thoughts. He watches the landscape with its bright lights and busy streets pass by in a blur, the easy flow of traffic giving them no pause on the trip.  _ Did Rhodey willingly present himself to go with them? _ Steve thinks he and Rhodey settled into a vague area of acquaintances, and wonders if the man could be concerned about him enough that they talk about his issues in his absence. He plays back the memory of their interaction a while ago, how Rhodey’s eyes swept over his figure before turning away as if checking him, and glances at Rhodey until their eyes meet in the rear view mirror and he has too look away.

He sees a group of men outside laughing, one shoving at the other causing a small back and forth before the other goes back to wrapping his arm around the shoulders of his girl. He watches them laugh and talk until they’re out of his sight, and he can’t repress the quirk of his lips at the memory of watching Tony and Clint bicker about the technicalities of Star Wars.

_ Could Tony be concerned enough to send Rhodey to check on him? _

The thought comes out of nowhere, unbidden, and his body gives an involuntary jolt that has Rhodey raising his eyebrow a little when it catches his attention in the mirror. “You okay back there, old man?” Natasha checks on him, and he lets out a sarcastic laugh and a soft kick to her seat before carefully avoiding the question in Rhodey’s eyes. 

_ Certainly you aren’t stupid enough to actually think that, right? _ The voice in his head mocks.  _ Of course you are, you fool!  _ It adds right after, and he has a moment of detachment from reality when he hears a cackle that seems a little too real to just be something his brain came up with. He’s still racking his brain trying to remember where he could’ve possibly heard that when he felt the car stop. “We’re here,” Rhodey informs them, and they unfasten their seatbelts before stepping out. 

The store is obviously not something an average worker could afford. It is very classy, with mahogany walls and an old-timey feel to it. Steve feels a little out of place as he and Natasha follows Rhodey’s lead, and he tries to subtly wrap the leather jacket he wore a little bit tighter around his body. Natasha notices and raises his eyebrow at him, but before he could indignantly react a man dressed in a tuxedo greets them with open arms.

“Colonel Rhodes! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He laughs, hugging Rhodey and giving him two loud slaps on the back before they part. “Roberto, how many times do I have to tell you it’s Rhodey,” Rhodey retorts in return, and the man– Roberto, Steve reminds himself– waves him off before turning to them. He assesses them, and Steve feels the sudden urge to defend his clothing. “Who do you have here?” He asks and Rhodey gives Steve a reassuring smile before replying.

“They’re my friends. The blonde over there needs a tux,” he says, and Roberto lights up. “Ah, so they are guests for the wedding of the century then! I’ll prepare my measuring tapes and you can tell me all about the preparations,” he says, fortunately turning before he could see Steve flinch at the reminder, and Rhodey goes along with it, squeezing his shoulder as he passes by.

Steve swallows, Natasha squeezes his arm, and they make their way to the stalls hidden in the back.

He gets past the measurements with small talk and short lived smiles, but the measurements go without a hitch until he finds himself standing with Rhodey as Roberto and Natasha discuss the colors of his suit. They’d ask for his input at some points, but they mostly kept to themselves, whispering while scanning his body as if envisioning him in the tuxedo already. Steve crosses his arms out of self consciousness, and Rhodey let out an exhale that may be a laugh.

Rhodey casually shuffles nearer and Steve has no idea how to mentally prepare himself for what he has to say.

“You don’t have to look as if you’re walking on eggshells, man. I’m not holding what happened in Siberia over your head, even though I probably should,” Rhodey tells him bluntly, voice low enough for only the two of them to hear, and he lets out a shaky exhale. It stings, to know that what happened then will always come back to bite him anytime, but Rhodey had a point.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s alright if you don’t really forgive me though,” Steve says, internally cringing at what just came out of his mouth, but he watches Rhodey shake his head and lets out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Wow, you’re really something, Rogers,” he says, looking at him with a humorous smile. It shifts into a sympathetic smile, and Rhodey continues talking. “I mean, if you’re a little less blunt about it, I might as well be talking to Tony.” The relief that started to flow out of him dissipated quickly as he freezes, feeling cautious about what to do next. Rhodey looks ahead, avoiding his eyes.

“Both of you are similar in the core, just different methods basically. So when you fight it’s explosive but when you fight together? You’re a force to be reckoned with,” Rhodey tells him, pauses, and then backtracks. “I’m not saying this just because we need you to get your shit together,” Steve flinches in reflex and Rhodey winces at the reaction “–sorry, but you get the point– to find out how to get the other 50% back because that’s not what this is. I mean, hell, maybe we might not. Maybe we really lost this time, and there’s nothing left to do but lose our shit, so it might not even matter,” Rhodey frowns, and waves his hand as if waving off everything he just said. “That is not the point. I just–“ he sighs, palming his forehead before sliding it to all the way round his head to scratch the back of his neck, and Steve is at a loss for words so he shuffles with his eyes on the ground. 

Rhodey then moves, catching his attention, and before he knows it his eyes snap up to meet the other’s. Steve clenches his fist then stuffs it in his pocket, waiting for what Rhodey is going to tell him. Rhodey then sighs, which Steve is beginning to associate with the kind of sigh everyone lets out at the sight of him.

“Look, man, I really don’t know how to do this. What I’m saying is, I know Tony okay? You hurt him and his pride made him fight back, but by the end of the day anger really isn’t what happened back there. It was betrayal, hurt, and possibly at a loss for what he’s going to do now after that. And yeah, maybe I shouldn’t forgive you, maybe none of us should forgive you just yet, but we did because Tony did. Even after all this, you’re still his friend, and I used to hate that but there’s no changing it,” Rhodey finishes, searching Steve’s eyes for a reaction. Steve doesn’t know what he sees, mainly because even he doesn’t know what he feels at that. He feels like an emotional wreck waiting to happen, and he’s afraid if he tries to talk the dam’s only going to break and he’d show more than he’s willing to.

“Steve, the only thing that’s in the way of you and Tony making up is the heavy self-blaming you’ve got going on. Actually, on top of your other issues it’s the self-blame that’s taking a toll on you,” Rhodey carefully says with a small crooked smile, and Steve is filled with humiliation even at the kind tone. “You’re my friend too, Cap, and you need to get over this before you get too much for yourself. Accept the invite as the opening Tony’s willing to give you.” He holds Steve’s shoulder with a firm hand, and Steve can tell he genuinely says that. “Okay,” Steve manages to croak out, and Rhodey nods in acknowledgement before turning to the already returning Roberto and Natasha.

Steve lets the chatter wash over him as his heart beats wildly in his chest, feeling a little bit like the ground swallowed him whole.

Steve is a man enough to admit to himself that he is(was?) a hopeless romantic.

It should come as a surprise, seeing as his father was gone before he could even learn how to walk and he grew up in a house that could collapse in on itself maybe faster than Steve himself would. Life was never easy for them back then, but him and his ma... that was their thing. When it gets so cold in their rundown apartment, and Steve is confined to his bed for something as simple as a cold, his Ma would talk about awfully sweet stories of what she and her dad were like before and when they got married. They would giggle and laugh until they fall asleep in each other’s arms, which doesn’t really last long with Steve’s former sickly body.

It was always at the back of his mind, how nice it would be to have a dame to come home to and a kid to carry on his shoulders in a humble home, but then he became a soldier– supersoldier, he corrects himself– and then he had better things to worry about. Sure, Peggy made him hope the slightest bit, but he didn’t make himself believe because even then he wasn’t that naive. Sacrifices had to be made, especially with the gift he’s been given, so he always knew that the war comes first before his trivial fantasies.

Then he woke up 70 years ahead of his time, so he prioritises his adjustment and loses time to dwell on it, especially when he was needed again, and especially when there were a bunch of aliens he had to face with a team he needed to lead without knowing actually how. It just sat there, in the back of his mind, until that one time Tony leaned on him while drinking his first mug of coffee in the morning with drowsiness still showing in his features that he realized he was in love with this hopeless human being.

It was also then he knew that if he was given only half a chance to have those things with this bright-eyed genius who barely functions before coffee and never seems to know how to be a normal human being when stripped down to his most domestic, he would absolutely take it. 

Steve Rogers, Captain America, man out of time, the living legend from the comics and history books, would absolutely marry the fuck out of Tony goddamn Stark. He’d find the ring with the biggest and shiniest diamond if he had to, or whatever ring that would perfectly fit Tony’s eccentric personality, and  _ he would marry the absolute fuck out of Tony. _

Too bad he never got around to even asking the man out on a date though.

_ Too fucking bad _ , Steve chuckles morbidly at himself, wincing at how dead he sounds contrast to the birds chirping outside the dark of his room.

Steve decides he should probably try watching television so that he actually stands a chance at being able to say he’s okay without Natasha raising a judgemental eyebrow at him, so he turns it on.

The television helpfully informs him how preparations of the wedding that’ll finally make an honest man out of Tony Stark are going along.

He turns it back off, already thinking how many laps around the city he could get if he starts right now.

(The news anchors are a bunch of fools. He saw what Tony looks like when he truly was head over heels over someone, and making an honest man out of him was more probable than they thought.)

(Steve wishes that Tony could look at him like he hung the moon and created the universe itself instead of the man who broke his trust countless of times, but that’s irrelevant.)

It’s two days before the wedding, and now there’s absolutely no way Steve can avoid it and spare his feelings until the event.

He is on his usual morning jog, trying to let off a little steam and focus all the heart pounding anxiety into a vigorous workout, when he passes by an electronic store. He sees Tony’s face and has a quick debate with himself before giving in and paying attention to the TV displays on the window. He watches Tony smile and laugh, albeit more genuinely than he usually does in front of the paparazzi, and then the reporter is being told to back off by Happy as they make their way to SI. There was a glimpse of Pepper through the glass door, and Tony kisses her cheek before the other reporters flood the view of the channel’s footage.

The last time Tony beamed like that was when the Avengers were an actual team. They were, until you went and tore it all apart, he hears vividly, and bile rises in his throat. Steve forces himself to move and jogs away, feeling emptier and more hollow than he possibly could be at this point.

He gets home, takes a shower to get rid of the sweat, and then he pukes and finally lets himself grieve in the echoes of his private bathroom.

_ Maybe he really shouldn’t go to the wedding _ . 

He tells Natasha as much, and Natasha says she’s not letting him back out now just because he was scared. He sucks it up and takes it back just so that he can prove Natasha wrong.

He wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t that.

(He really is.)

Steve just wants to, maybe, stop hurting himself more than he already is. The serum could only heal so much.

The one time he tries to actually stop the martyr act, to actually do as he is told, and he’s not allowed to do so. Of course he’s always spectacularly late to everything. A flash of Peggy’s red lips in the 40s, her old dying body, and then the sparkle of Tony’s big beautiful brown doe eyes, and he’s breaking down again.

It’s the day of the wedding, and in a few minutes they’ll be on their way to the venue. Steve swallows, evaluating his appearance in a full body mirror, and sees everything in place.

He blinks, and for a second he sees himself in front of the altar. He looks down and sees familiar, rough, yet beautiful hands in his own, and hears wedding bells and vows and cheers. Then he looks back at himself, and the vision was broken, and he feels himself slowly dying on the inside. 

“Steve,” Natasha’s gentle voice interrupting his internalized funeral, and he meets her eyes in a mirror. Steve nods, and together they walk out of the tower. Rhodey picks them up once again, and Steve is eternally grateful for how supportive they’re both being, even though he ought to feel a little embarrassed at how desperate that sounds.

The strategic part of his brain is whispering he’s probably going to need all the support he gets, and for the first time Steve agrees with himself.

The venue is beautiful.

The wedding itself is an outdoors event, with the altar situated at the main entrance of the pavilion where the reception would apparently take place. The pavilion itself was pretty open, considering that the only decorations blocking the inside from view are white curtains between the pillars tied at the middle with inserted white and pink roses. Rhodey leaves them to find Tony, and Natasha pulls him towards the last row. They seat in white chairs with elaborate and classy patterns on the backrest, and Steve takes his time looking at all the trees with fairy lights hanging on them. The aisle is bordered with posts holding the same combination of pink and white roses. They are connected by white fabric to form a border that separates the audience from the aisle.

With the fairy lights the place seems like it’s shining, and Steve can already imagine how beautiful Tony would be at the center of it all with his eyes reflecting the lights with its own shine. Steve takes a deep breathe and smoothes his hands down the legs of his trousers to remove imaginary wrinkles in them. He glances at Natasha, who is also looking around with faint awe.

“Pepper really outdid herself here,” she says, and Steve is inclined to agree. The place is simple enough to not feel intimidated by it all, but classy enough to acknowledge how much of a big deal this whole day would be. It really is a stunning place, but Steve finds himself slowly feeling detaching from everything, feeling emptier as he feels like crawling out of his skin. He clenches his fists until his nails bite into flesh enough to keep him there.

They watch other guests laugh and talk among each other as they fill the rows, and soon enough when almost everyone was seated someone calls out to say that the wedding will be starting in 5 minutes. A shiver runs up his spine and the guests chatter more excitedly among themselves, and he firmly keeps his feet planted on the ground before he does something stupid like give away how nervous he is by bouncing his knee up and down.

5 more minutes, and Tony is going to be married. His brain begins a mental countdown, and he tastes the bile as it threatens to come out.

_ He really shouldn’t have come _ .

Natasha places a delicate hand on top of his clenched fist. “Do you need to take a breather?” She leans in and whispers while scanning his face, and forces himself to smile. Right, smiling, he should do that. “I’m staying, or else I’ll never hear the end of it,” he says, looking around as he begins to realize that there might be a few reporters broadcasting the event. There are only a few of them, which Steve remembers as the ones that Tony can actually tolerate, and he goes back to look at Natasha who nods her head and leans back into her seat.

The room turns a bit louder before the voices go down into whispers, and when he glances up to know why his breath hitches.

Forget the event, Tony looks absolutely and dangerously beautiful. Then before he could stop it his head shakes, because the right word for Tony Stark is magnificent.

Steve itches to draw him under all this lights.

Because Tony looks just like how Steve envisioned him and more, his eyes glittering that is more him and less the actual lights themselves, and Steve bets that if someone were to turn them off the way Tony’s smiling and grinning at Rhodey is enough to light it up even brighter than it was before. He almost chuckles at how Tony is wearing white, knowing that it definitely is Tony to do something like this. His hair is the same curly mess it is, though a little better along with the rest of him since he came back from that ship, and Jesus Christ but Steve will give up everything he is just to be able to have that under his chin like the first time they hugged since Steve knew he loves this man.

His heart is stuck in his throat, beating so wildly he’s convinced Natasha could hear it, and his eyes are wide as he takes in Tony like a man in a desert seeing water after days of being deprived of it.

Tony turns to their general direction, and that’s when he blinks and realises what he’s been doing. Christ, he was one heartbeat away from dropping his jaw at a man who is  _ about to get married _ . Steve turns instead to Natasha, and she looks at him with such a small sad smile that he decides that his leather shoes look more interesting instead. His eyes traces the lace, and every crease from when he’s been wriggling his toes when he first wore them, and when he decides that he’s probably beginning to overdo it he looks up again only to see Tony looking at him in shock.

Like he didn’t know what Steve is doing there.

Steve also doesn’t know what he’s even doing here anymore.

Steve gasps in a deep breath because surely there should be air in there somewhere, and Tony is the first to look away when the entourage appears. Then Tony’s back, and he’s every bit of happy, amazed and glorious he was before spotting Steve.

Steve wonders what’s going to get him first: a heart attack or a serious breakdown. 

The music plays, and Natasha squeezes his hand as the entourage begins to walk down the aisle. He doesn’t scan faces, just stares and treasures whatever glimpse of Tony he could get between the steady flow of people going up to stand with the groom himself. It’s only when Tony gives Pepper the most gentle smile that he lets out the emptiest laugh he ever heard that came from himself.

“Trust Tony to be the one wearing white and convince Pepper to wear black,” Steve comments, and Natasha smiles. “Right, I bet he didn’t even need to convince her too hard to make her agree,” Natasha says as she softly chuckles, and Steve shakes his head. Pepper might be the one to always set Tony straight, but he knew her enough to know that she also has a mischievous side to her. She and Tony are really made for each other that way.

Then it sinks in.

And suddenly any trace of humor was lost on him.

_ God, this is really happening _ , Steve thinks to himself, and the ceremony starts.

Steve prides himself in knowing a lot of Tony’s appearances. They are categorized under either public and domestic, and everything else falls under those big umbrellas. Steve loves every single one, all because it’s irrevocably Tony.

Steve loves Tony in the morning when his hair is ruffled, eyes still bleary, and how he shuffles at the scent of coffee like those zombies in that famous show when they’re walking around aimlessly.

Steve loves him when the team has a movie night, and he plays up the bratty attitude enough that Clint throws popcorn at him and Natasha implies castrating him while paying no mind to Thor’s booming laughter. There are crows feet at the corner of his eyes when they crinkle as he smiles like there’s no place he would rather be, and once upon a time he probably did.

And Steve foolishly loves Tony’s fiery glare and clenched jaw in the middle of a fight, repulsors beaming as they take on robots, aliens, or man-eating giant rabbits side by side when sunlight would hit the armor just enough to blind Steve. And he loves him in that moment, when he’s at his most determined and powerful, even when it’s directed at him.

Tony in suits for events, Tony in tight tank tops and sweatpants, Tony being emotional, or passionate, or with kids...

Tony, Tony, Tony.

Then there’s a look that Steve never saw but imagined; the one where his eyes are so gentle and soft, his touch a line of comfort wherever it drags, his voice a lilting lullaby in quiet nights and lazy afternoons. He imagines, and pines, to see that when it’s only the two of them, but it never comes.

That must be how it looks though.

Married and hopelessly and undeniably in love, Steve finds out, is a really good look on Tony.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant says, and Steve can’t help himself looking away as they lean in just in time to hide a shedded tear. The audience erupts with whistles and loud applause, and Steve wipes it away before looking up and clapping as well. He avoids looking at anyone in the eye.

_ Don’t forget the smile _ , and the reminder was sadistic in nature, but he does plaster a smile on his face as cameras shutter and click around then.

His Ma taught him that picking at food is very disrespectful, but he can’t find it in himself to do anything other than pick at it.

A guest sits at his right, while Natasha sits at his left. She keeps looking at him, and at one time she asks him how he is feeling, but he soldiers on and says that he’s fine firmly enough that she doesn’t ask again. Natasha keeps looking at him though, as if waiting for him to explode or crumble to the ground at any moment, and Steve can’t find it in himself to assure her otherwise because he sort of feels the same way too.

To her left is Clint who is focused on finishing the food. It was a nice surprise, to see him there after Natasha told him a few months ago that Clint’s whole family got dusted too, but Clint says he’s not about to miss Tony ditch the playboy title. Steve heartaches and he forces out a chuckle before welcoming Clint to sit with them.

He pokes the steak, cuts a bit and puts it in his mouth, and he finally convinces himself that it would be a waste to not consume this. He begins eating in earnest, looks around the cheerful ambiance of the room under the lights streaming from one corner of the pavilion to the center, and sees Tony and Pepper weaving through their guests and entertaining table by table. Steve almost chokes on a piece of meat when he images them walking their way towards here, hand in hand.

“Hey Steve, slow down there buddy!” Clint calls at him to lighten up the mood, only loud enough for him to hear, and he does something with his face that doesn’t quite reaches a smile after he downs the glass of water in one go. “Sorry,” he chokes out, before looking over to where Tony is and calculating the distance for a quick second before turning back. He misses the look Clint and Natasha give each other but he sees Clint’s eyebrows furrow while Natasha looks deeply concerned.

“Look, Steve–“ Clint starts, and he doesn’t want to hear it right now. 

“Yeah, about that,” Steve interrupts, and he shoots Clint an apologetic look. “Can you guys cover for me? I just need a breather,” he continues, and Natasha sighs before holding his hand and squeezing it. “Okay,” Natasha says simply. “Take your time, man, we’ll tell them you needed to step out a bit when they come around here,” Clint says, and Steve is eternally grateful for both of them.

“Thanks,” Steve tells them, and doesn’t stay long enough to linger on Clint’s “don’t mention it” and Nat’s nod of acknowledgement before he’s standing up and trying to keep a normal pace while he walks out the door. The air is chilly as soon as he steps outside, and if it isn’t for the fairy lights still hanging the place would be dark save for the few stars shining here and there. He breathes it in, walks down the aisle, and it’s like a stab to the chest and a squeeze of his heart.

There is a punchline there, along the lines of being the man out of time and being an expert at waiting too long, and it forces out a humorless laugh out of him.

Steve knows a lot about regrets, but somehow it doesn’t quite feel like this. He already experienced a regret of living, but that was well founded, when everyone he knew is left 70 years behind. This, though, is different because this time he regrets everything he ever did in the past that lead to this moment, this... dead end. He regrets how he is, who he is, and it burns him from the inside out.

Steve shakily exhales, runs his fingers through his hair and barely refrains from tugging it out until it hurts as much as it does inside. He feels everything and nothing, and he sort of wants to go home and curl into a ball. Then his ears pick up the sound of footsteps and he’s freezing because it’s way too familiar and if it’s who he thinks it is–

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Tony calls out, and Steve is burning and freezing at the same time, stiff as a rod, and he wants to run and hide but– 

Tony’s footsteps begin again, indicating he’s coming closer and he wants to tell Tony to stay there but he can’t.

His voice is stuck somewhere in his throat, and  _ if this is the only way he could have Tony so close then _ ... Steve turns.

Tony’s crooked grin is a comforting sight, but it is frightening in the sense that a part of him wants to believe they’re finally okay, that Steve deserves to be on the receiving end of that grin, and that’s just an incomprehensible level of idiot that requires too much of his dignity. Tony’s shining in his pristine white suit, looking somehow younger in his carefree stance, and Steve only hopes he somehow looks the same.

“Tony,” Steve says, and a volume lower it would be a whisper, like a prayer, and Tony smiles at him like they’re friends.

“Cap,” Tony says in return. They’re a few feet apart, and Steve wonders if the romantic setting the wedding sets will be enough to cover for him if he tries to shorten that distance between them to a few inches. Tony, oblivious (is he?) to his thoughts, looks around as if finding for something.

“So what’s so interesting around here that you chose to step out instead of stick around?” And there’s the familiarity of Tony trying to get a reaction out of him like poking a bear with a stick that abruptly makes him lose the tension and chuckle. “Nothing. Just, uh, got overwhelmed,” Steve says lamely, fiddling with his cufflinks on reflex.

Tony starts smiling sheepishly.

“Did you? Pepper also wanted to go really simple, and since I’m a billionaire with an amount of money even I don’t know how to spend properly I figured people have seen worse, you know? And Pepper and I, we’ve been talking of bowing out and settling down like the old people we are so I thought I’d go fancy one last time–“ “It’s fine, Tony,” Steve says exasperatedly and maybe a little too fondly at Tony’s rambling. “It’s just, the people. They overwhelmed me. Not the place; the place is nice,” he says, looking up at the one small bulb that is directly above him. It’s a bittersweet feeling, to have this sudden throwback before tomorrow comes and ruins it with the future it holds. Steve’s smile flickers on his face before it settles and he looks over at Tony.

Who is studying him.

Steve feels something fluttering in his stomach, and his heartbeat is wild in his ears as he watches Tony’s unwavering gaze observe him. It felt like he is being picked apart, vulnerable, like Tony can see through his bullshit and know that all Steve ever needed to move forward is him. He’s afraid of the possibility of being transparent, and immediately sighs quietly of relief when Tony looks back at the reception instead.

Steve shivers from the breeze that suddenly blows, and the plants around them swayed.

“Dance with me,” Tony says suddenly, pulling his hands out of his pocket, and there goes all hope of being calm because he’s out of his depth here, stripped bare just like the day he was born, and all he can do is stare at the (wedded) man dumbly.

“What?” He asks, and Tony rolls his eyes and walks towards him.

_ He’s close, so close– _

“Dancing, Rogers? Don’t tell me that it didn’t exist in the 40s, because by then I’d have to reevaluate everything I learned in history,” Tony snarks, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with the less amount of distance so he just stands there. The night is cold, and he can hears the distant chatter from inside of the pavilion. “There’s no music,” Steve says instead, and Tony then pulls his phone from his suit jacket, waving it in front of Steve. 

“Say no more,” Tony says, with the kind of charm that got him the playboy title in the first place, and he fiddles with his phone until the first few notes of a vague Sinatra song play. The song seems louder than it really is, intimidating, and Tony slowly steps closer to him, testing the waters. Steve never learned how to say no to those eyes, that smile, so when Tony clasps his right hand and places his free one on Steve’s left shoulder he takes the cue for what it is. He holds on tight, wills himself to have control over his strength so he doesn’t end up breaking Tony’s hand, and places his left on Tony’s hip awkwardly, because if he touches the man any tighter it might feel too much like Eve as she bit into the forbidden fruit. 

They begin a simple box step, turning in place.

At first it’s awkward, as it should be, because they don’t really know where they stand with each other. The song progresses, and somewhere in the chorus they find their rhythm. Tony asks about him and Natasha, and he answers with painfully boring details. Steve talks about the group therapy sessions that he attends to, and in turn Tony talks his ear off about how strange it is to try the whole settling down thing. Every mention of Pepper’s name drives a nail into Steve’s heart, and he finds himself stumbling a bit when Tony laughs at a fond memory he has with Pepper on a date.

(Steve assumes it’s a date, but all he processed was Tony being happy with Pepper and it feels a little bit like a slap to the face.)

(Steve wonders what it must be like to be in Pepper’s shoes. He respects Pepper, knows she’s more than capable, and he’s a little biased when he thinks how lucky she is.

Tony also is, but Steve wishes that the same would be said if it was him instead of Pepper.)

Tony’s laugh fades into the dark, and he grows serious all at once. It’s a slow transition, but to have it near him– he is so close to burying his nose in Tony’s hair, but refrains– is whiplash. 

“I didn’t think you would come,” Tony says, looking over Steve’s shoulder. “Thought it was hit and miss, that you’d come because it was only the polite thing to do, so in all honesty I didn’t really expect you to comply when I asked for an impromptu dance here with crickets and god knows what.” Tony pauses, then talks fast as if he is forcing out of himself, like if he thinks about it he’ll never be able to say it. “I’m glad you came though,” he leaves it at that.

He whispers the words as he says it, like a secret he has kept to himself for a long time. It might be, but Steve is confused as to what it actually implies.

It must be the atmosphere, the distance between themselves, or Tony himself that brought his walls down, because before he knows it the words slip out of his mouth. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Steve whispers, and it’s a little too honest, too raw, and it betrays what Steve really wants to say.

_ It’d hurt me, yes, but I’ll never miss the day you finally find it in yourself to let yourself be happy. _

Their feet slow to a stop. It’s tense, and as much as Steve wants to take it back, but Tony’s pulling back and searching Steve’s eyes where he’ll surely see everything Steve ever felt for him. 

“Steve?” Tony asks cautiously, and Steve should be afraid, to be caught red-handed now of all times, but it feels like a relief, to say the truth after hiding for so long. He feels a sudden rush of bravery, amongst the fear and the pain of always being miles behind, and he finds himself letting the dam break all at once.

He hopes that even after all this time Tony would be able to read him like an open book, just like before, like it always has been, so he doesn’t waver from Tony’s gaze before giving him the saddest, most honest smile he ever had. Their foreheads are almost touching, and their noses would probably brush alongside each other if Steve turns a little bit more to the right, but he stays where he is and just smiles, and he sees the exact moment it clicks for Tony.

Tony’s eyes widen, throat working and swallowing, and his breath hitches at the sudden realization. He gives an involuntary step backwards and Steve lets him, dropping his hand and letting his waist go. Tony looks lost, and he is too, and he has to turn away because tears are starting to prick at the corners of his eyes.

“You should’ve told me,” was all Tony says, his voice hoarse from emotion, and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling now that everything’s all out in the open. Steve doesn’t bother hiding his tears, just avoids Tony’s gaze and watches the grass sway around his shoes, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I didn’t want to ruin the only thing you had going for yourself,” Steve says, and he finally looks at Tony, who looks as wrecked as him. 

Tony chokes, his hand covering his mouth, and he rubs hard at his beard before looking up and laughing brokenly. “You– you  _ idiot _ . You  _ stupid self-sacrificing bastard _ ,” and then he’s surging forward, holding Steve’s face in his hands so gently as if Steve is as fragile as he feels, and he pulls him down so that Steve ducks and they breathe each other’s air as their foreheads bump. Steve is still crying, tears falling quietly, and Tony wipes the wetness from under his left eye when he himself looks like he’s moments away from crying too.

“God, Steve, I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, and any semblance of self control shatters within Steve when Tony pulls him into a fierce hug.

Steve hears a sob come out of his mouth as he buries his face in Tony’s neck, his nose picking up on the familiar scent of Tony, of expensive perfume and adventures to different cafes and home, and he sobs so hard he thinks the other guests would come out to ask what’s wrong. Tony has his fingers buried in Steve’s hair and the fabric of Steve’s suit bunched up in the other on his back, and Tony isn’t crying but he knows Tony feels it to; the desperation to cling to each other, to make up for the years that went on without them doing this, which felt so natural it was just plain wrong to have missed it for so long. “I never knew what it was like to not love you, Steve,  _ God _ ,” and that alone sets off another round of sobs, wracking Steve’s whole system as Tony holds him tighter than humanly possible in his opinion.

_ (This is so unfair this is so unfair this is so goddamn unfair—) _

They grip unto each other, but ease apart after some time, and Tony holds Steve’s face again. No words are spoken for a while because what even is there to say? Steve loves him, and Tony loved (loves?) Steve back, but Pepper’s here in the picture and Tony’s married and it’s too late for the both of them. Steve grips onto Tony’s hips, taking advantage of the only time he would be able to do this.

God, they could never be on time, couldn’t they? 

Steve wants to laugh but it’s too painful for him to handle.

“In another time, if somehow we just got our heads out of our asses,” Tony starts, but never finishes, because they know how that sentence would end and it would be borderline masochistic to entertain the possibilities of what could have been. “Yeah,” Steve whispers, incapable of saying more, and he hopes his eyes tell Tony everything as they drink in each other for the last time.

_ I love you. _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ I need you. _

_ I love you. _

Tony smiles sadly at him, his eyes looking too wet to be a trick of the light. “I’m really sorry,” Tony whispers, and he kisses Steve’s cheek, lingers for a few seconds before pulling away. He steps back, but never takes his eyes off Steve.

His cheek feels hot, like it’s been branded by Tony, and it’s always been that way hasn’t it? The minute Tony let him in, floored him with his unwavering gaze and swept him off his feet with witty one liners and he was gone. Nothing ever changed, from then and now, even after everything that happened. Steve will always love Tony, even if it kills him.

“I know,” he tells Tony, still smiling, and he ignores his heart breaking in favor of being grateful to have a taste of Tony, a single fleeting moment before they move on with their lives, and he knows even without leaving that he’ll always be stuck in this second. He’ll never be the same again. 

Tony takes one more step back, and that’s when the reality of it sinks.

Because Tony will always walk away with Steve’s heart. He’ll walk away with every broken ugly piece of it, because ever since the beginning it was already his for taking. He’ll do it, rip it away if he had to, and Steve would let him. He’ll let Tony wrench it out of his chest and let himself bleed as he watches Tony walk further away from him. It would kill him, but there’s nowhere else Steve could picture his heart would be.

He was and always will be Tony’s, even if Tony could never be his.

In another time, another place, we could’ve had this, he tells himself, and with the risk of being borderline masochistic he lets himself smile.

“Tony?” Steve calls out, and tries to smile for Tony as he steels himself. “Congratulations,” Steve tells him, and a tear does fall from Tony’s eyes this time. He still looks devastatingly beautiful, and Steve is hopelessly entranced. Tony wipes it away, smiles one more time, and when he turns it’s with the confidence that takes Steve’s breath away every time. 

Tony walks away from Steve, back into the pavilion, towards the life waiting for him and Pepper.

It takes all of Steve’s will power not to reach for him one last time.

Steve stays outside, and watches the pavilion’s ethereal glow throughout the night.


End file.
